


Sun Shines on a Puckered Rosebud

by HPswl_cumbercookie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor John Watson, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Perineal sunning, Sunburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPswl_cumbercookie/pseuds/HPswl_cumbercookie
Summary: Sherlock wants to try a new experiment, and as sometimes happens when you try new things, he gets burned. Fortunately John is able to help him out a little.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 87





	Sun Shines on a Puckered Rosebud

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was very kindly inspired by some of my lovely twitter friends, specifically @CKDelbridge. She and @WritingOutLoud also very kindly took the time to beta and britpick respectively. You guys are the best! I hope everyone enjoys! Please feel free to give me a shout if I miss an error somewhere.

Who gets a sunburn at 3pm in England, in London, in October? Who?! Well, it’s always going to be the amazing, wondrous, hero of Reichenbach, Sherlock Holmes. It’s even more amazing when one thinks to ask where did he get this miraculous sunburn? Well, he got it on the roof of 221B, his go to place for experiments that either required being outside, or experiments that Mrs. Hudson simply would not allow in the flat. This experiment was definitely both, so off to the roof he went. 

He’d been contemplating the experiment for a few weeks, ever since the case he solved involving mysterious spots of dead grass in the field surrounding Alnwick Castle. The caretakers of the property had been quite concerned by the spots, but due to some renovation being done to the property, they hadn’t been around to see what may have caused it. Sherlock had been bored and intrigued by the vaguely ovular spots, so he decided to investigate, and the cause was not what he had expected, and he was so surprised by his discovery, he figured he might like to try it himself as an experiment in human behavior. What was it then, the cause of the spots? That’s surely the question you’re asking yourself right now, and that’s understandable. You’ll just have to wait a moment and see.

It was a brisk day, but the breeze was slow and the sun was still warm, so he brought some blankets to lay on and cover up with if need be, but he didn’t think it would be necessary. So, blankets in hand, and dressed only in his favorite blue dressing gown, he made his way to the roof of 221B. And when I say  _ only _ in his dressing gown, I do mean it. When he made it up to the roof, he folded the blankets neatly so they lay thick against the cement to keep away the chill and took off his dressing gown, completely disregarding the possibility of prying eyes and the fine he might get from exposing himself on the roof of a building in central London in the fall. Modesty fully intact he lay down on his back on his bed of blankets, wiggling slightly to settle more comfortably against the fleece, and swung his legs up to his head, arms behind his thighs to fully expose the nether regions. 

Yes folks, you heard it here first, Sherlock Holmes went to his roof to shed some light on areas of the body that should  _ never _ see the sun.

He stayed there for a while, admittedly the warmth of the sun on his anus and perineum was unexpectedly comfortable. It wasn’t until he felt his arms start to rebel against the strain of holding his legs up that he decided it would be best to stop for the day and go back downstairs. Even the lithe, muscular, healthy body of Sherlock Holmes doesn’t enjoy being forced into the same unnatural position for untold amounts of time, and he felt his joints pop and strain as he unfolded himself and gathered himself back into his dressing gown. He gingerly made his way back down the steps and in through the window of 221B. 

It wasn’t until almost an hour later, when he had dressed, stretched, and begun a less eccentric experiment at the kitchen table that he noticed something was wrong. He was . . . itching, and not in places he usually itched. When he occasionally would shift in his seat to attempt to relieve the need to itch, he noticed it would burn like it had been rubbed raw. It wasn’t until he began to grow frustrated by the distraction that he realized what he had done, and it went downhill from there. As soon as he became aware that he had sunburnt his perineum, it was all he could seem to think about. The burning was intense, and he didn’t have anything to put on a burn in such a sensitive area. He began to pace the flat in aggravation, but the movement only irritated the inflamed skin. At one point, he went into the bathroom to try to see the damage, and he was met with intensely red skin that seemed to radiate heat. He had very badly burnt his nethers. 

The stretching that had been required to try to see how bad the burn was only made the pain worse, so he waddled to the sofa, loose pants lying low on his hips to limit their contact with the afflicted area. He lay as still as he could in hopes that eventually the burn would become manageable, and slowly, but surely he was eased from his agony, but trapped with the knowledge that the second he tried to move it would return with a vengeance. Fortunately, he was finally able to retreat into his mind palace, making the long hours that passed before John came home pass infinitely quicker. 

When John finally did get home late that evening, he was taken aback to find Sherlock in his mind palace with only his pants on, especially his loose pants. He didn’t generally wear them if he could help it, they were, regretfully, a gift from his mother for Christmas a few years back. He would normally only wear them if he ran out of acceptable pants to wear, and John knew the laundry had just been done. There was nothing he could do but shake him from his fugue and ask him, so he did. At least, he attempted to. He gave Sherlock a few gentle shakes on the shoulder in hopes that maybe that would get his attention, to no avail. He gave him a quick pinch on the arm, still nothing. A quick peck on the lips was enough to rouse him though. He followed the kiss as John pulled back before hissing in pain and falling back on the cushions, his face twisted up into a grimace. John frowned, concerned, “Are you okay? What happened?”

Sherlock scowled, anger taking the place of pain on his face. “I wanted to experiment with a practice I discovered after one of my more recent cases as a case study in human behavior, in other words to see  _ why _ people would voluntarily participate in a particular behavior, and I ended up slightly injuring myself in the process. Nothing of any great concern, it’s just a bit painful.”

John’s eyebrows scrunched up in suspicion, Sherlock was omitting something and he knew it. “What were you doing, exactly?”

“It’s a practice known as perineal sunning, it’s common amidst celebrities and some health fanatics. I was curious if it was a fad, or if there were health benefits to it. I will admit the warmth of the sun was quite comfortable while I was in the process.”

John’s eyebrows took another dramatic leap as they jumped up in shock. John had a growing suspicion as to what Sherlock had done, “Sherlock . . .” he paused, waiting for Sherlock to look him in the eyes, “Did you sunburn your arsehole?” John asked seriously. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but in essence, yes.” Sherlock let his eyes drop to the floor, unable to make eye contact with John as he stared at him in shock. John was silent for a moment before letting out a hearty chuckle that quickly devolved into hysterical laughter. After a minute or so of uncontrollable laughter, John was able to get a handle on himself enough to finally put Sherlock out of his misery. “Go into the bathroom and take off your pants, Mrs. Hudson has an aloe plant we can use, I’ll go grab a leaf or two and we’ll deal with your arsehole.” He left Sherlock on the couch and made his way downstairs, chuckling to himself still as he went. Mrs. Hudson gave him an odd look when he knocked on her door asking for her aloe vera plant. “My aloe plant,” she questioned, “what for?”

John was feeling kind and decided it would be best not to go into detail, so he simply told her, “Sherlock gave himself a sunburn working on an experiment today outside, and he can’t reach the burn very well so I’ve got to put it on for him.”

Mrs. Hudson scoffed with a smile, “I swear that man gets himself into the oddest predicaments sometimes. Let me go grab a few leaves off the aloe for you and then you go take care of your charge.” She soon came back with a few oozing leaves for him and he quickly made his way back up the stairs where he found Sherlock, laying right where he had been when John left him. All it took was a look at Sherlock’s face for John to understand. He reached out a hand for Sherlock to take and pulled him to his feet with a groan of, “Come on, you can do it.” Sherlock hissed and groaned as the movement pulled and stretched the inflamed, burning skin between his arse cheeks. 

It is a testament both to their love for each other, their trust in one another, and John’s excellent patience that both men got through the process of applying aloe to Sherlock’s perineum relatively unscathed. Sherlock kept jumping around and squirming as John applied the gel, resulting in curses from both parties, and at one memorable moment, Sherlock’s arse cheeks clapping together and trapping John’s hand between them when Sherlock lost his grip in a particularly violent jump. Eventually, the gel began to take effect and John was able to apply the rest more easily. When he finished and Sherlock was finally allowed to stand up straight, he grimaced and wiggled a little in the loose pants at the odd slimy feeling of aloe vera on his arsehole, but he couldn’t complain because ultimately the relief was heavenly. 

John very kindly treated his arse hole every day for the rest of the week until the burn had receded to something manageable. John still picked on him from time to time about it, especially when he was applying the aloe. He found great joy in pinching Sherlock’s arse when they took that time every morning to apply the aloe. Eventually, though the burn healed completely, and Sherlock was able to walk normally again. The day he returned to cases he came home from his first case to find a care package on the kitchen table. He rolled his eyes and left it there. John came up behind him and saw it and gave him a puzzled look and went to open it. On top was a note. 

_ Glad to see you’re healing nicely. Maybe next time don’t sit out so long, and remember to be mindful of prying eyes. Regards, -MH _

John chuckled and unwrapped the plastic around the basket. Inside was a bottle of aloe gel with lidocaine, a package of loose fitting pants, a small, soft seat cushion, and a bottle of sensitive skin sunscreen. John chuckled again and smirked as Sherlock made a huffy sniff that was clearly audible from across the room. He put away the gifts from Mycroft, giving a mental thanks to the elder Holmes, then snuggling up close to his aggravated boyfriend for a good post-case rest.

And that, folks, is what happens when Sherlock Holmes sunburns his arsehole.


End file.
